Long Eastbound Poems

Long Eastbound Poems. Below are the most popular long Eastbound by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eastbound poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Buses 16, 38 or 133

The thing I do to be nearer to him,
Commuting even in weather so grim.
The things I do to have more acceptance,
Cleaning his home for a much better chance.

The bus I go northbound in drives down memory lane,
As I reminisce about what he and I once were, in silent pain.
The bus I go eastbound with shows me where he's recently been,
As I daydream of a future wish I deeply hold within.

The commute may not always feel worth it,
But I want to show him I love him every bit.
The way home always fills me with sorrow,
But I always know there is another tomorrow.

The things I do for him, despite coming and going,
It is because it is him whom I will never stop loving.
The things I go through for him doesn't make him obligated,
But the least I hope for is my love is one day reciprocated.
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member We Heard a Whistle Blow

The whistles screamed that cold dark night
                                         Winter, 1903  
                            At least fourteen would perish
                                  Way out on the prairie 
 
                             The westbound Sunset Limited, 
                            Eastbound Crescent City Express,
                                Met head on in a collision
                               Lives lost in great distress   

                                 Horror met the rescuers 
                              Two twisted trains in flames
                          Of fourteen known to've perished
                            Of two, were not found names

                               A hundred plus years later,
                           On the date and pre-dawn hour
                         We'd come to the memorial plaque
                             With Teddy bears and flowers
                       
                            Holding our thoughts in silence
                               We walked along the trail
                              Remembering the violence;
                              Their deaths upon that rail

                                   Precisely 2:50 A.M 
                             What was it? We don't know
                                  But in our silent vigil
                                We heard a whistle blow

                          Sounding clear across the night
                         Once long, Three short, Last long
                         But there was nothing in our sight
                               Praying - we moved along

                          Our memorial under silver stars
                           For those perished on the track
                               Ended as we got in cars
                                   With one last look-
                                     a century back

                           We'll never solve the mystery
                              But do we need to know?
                              Commemorating history
                              We heard a whistle blow
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Interdependence

‘You are the tea leaves I am the tea pot I the tiny snowflake                                                                                and you the snow’ - Ode to Mum by Maria Williams

I dare you approach me with the notion that 'it's all about you'.
Have you no understanding that there's 'no you without Me'?

Were we not taught early on that there is no 'me without you'?
You are a most unfortunate human being and indeed most selfish.

It is such notion as yours that has the world in a dooms day spin.
Wars worldwide and localized have been fought and presently fighting

because of self and greed with little consideration that we need unity.
I shall remind you of the great and the mighty Mississippi River.

It is only thus because of the many tributaries that flow into it.
It is fed by the great westward flowing Ohio River and graciously                                                                 

accepts norishment from the eastbound Missiouri River. If such                 unity were not so, it's flow would be weak and most feable.

Why, the rich fertile delta soil along it's river bank would not be near             as coveted. Why, imagine what it's long and whinding river flow to               

the Mexico Gulf would be. Let none of us think 'we're all that                        and a bag of chips' because We Desparately Need One Another.

022820PoSpCtest, Poetic lines from a Poetic Soup Poet, Silent One
Line chosen from, Ode To Mum by Maria Williams. 2P
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Weathering

for Jim*

Equinox is past, yet the wind
blows cold. From a veranda swing

he watches pansies, daisies, snapdragons
color-up his garden; Smoky Mountains

so far distant he cannot see. He hears
the eastbound train echo warning. Rain

tomorrow.


*My late husband was born in the hills of North Carolina. Among his people was a belief that when the air was so calm and clear that the sound of the whistle of a train was amplified and echoed loudly, the sound was a harbinger of rain.

In 1970 Jim moved from North Carolina to SW Washington state. He lived there until his death in 2011, but once in a while he became homesick for his home in the Great Smoky Mountains.

Mountain Girl

Sleeping in the corner of a boxcar bound for Boulder 
Got a life I like to leave behind a love I'd like to keep.
With the River passing slowly through the desert night below me
The thunder rips across the sky and wakes me from my sleep.

Now I spent the later sixties in the Colorado Rockies,
But California called when I was running out of bread .
As Caroline tried not to cry, we slowly kissed our love goodbye
And 10 years came between us is our separate lives we led. 

Now a man in search of girls and dreams can bend his mind and make it seem
Like all good things are waiting in the next town round the bend.
But all I got from the traveling life was a beat-up Ford and a nagging wife, 
And nothing in my future here but things that might have been.

Another pour of Cutty Sark at a Chinese bar in Buena Park ,
I thought back on my life ‘till there was nothing more to say.
So I didn’t find it too hard to walk out to that train yard
And in the dusk I jumped aboard an eastbound Santa Fe.

Now staring blankly at the wall a life of hatred I recall
Our quiet nights were seldom as are fighting words increased.
But I've left it all eight hours ago to start life I used to know, 
With the night chill on my blanket, ‘cross the River headed East. 

Pardon me but I've made one mistake. 
Can't you see I'm doing all I can. 
Let me be and I’ll find love a gain 
Because I'm going to see my Mountain Girl again. 

Author's note: Intended as a song, the last four lines are meant to be a chorus interspersed after every other stanza. Dedicated to Ian Tyson.
© Ken Rone  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric


Premium Member Hound Most Renowned Nursery Rhyme

A man, quite renowned, came into our town;
He tried to expound on matters profound.
He frowned when he found as he tried to expound:
drowned by the sound of a hound in the town.

This was indeed a hound most renowned!
The sound from this hound, when on a rebound,
knocks a man down in a mound on the ground.

He looked all 'round: northbound, southbound, eastbound, westbound.
Nowhere he looked could that loud sound be found:
the fairground, the playground, the foreground, the background.
Finally he found himself down at the pound.

A foxhound, a coonhound, a bloodhound, a greyhound:
all of these hounds could be found at the pound,
but none of the hounds made that kind of sound.

A boy came around and said while he frowned,
his puppy was wound up, would not settle down.

"Your little dog too! Ha, ha," he clowned.
A little chihuahua made all of that sound?
Well, he dropped his jaw when he heard the chihuahua.
Now, he expounds on this hound most renowned.
----------


For the Nursery Rhyme 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Written on 04/14/2022
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member So I Wrote This Poem

We boarded a bus on the West coast and rode east to the next state.                                                                We then boarded an Eastbound train and travelled to the next state.                                                             There, we waited overnight and boarded another bus the next day,                                                          Continuing East for our final destination into one of the plains states.                                                                     I could feel an air of inspiration about this venture; So I wrote a poem.

We spent two days there, and after being entertained by culture, museums,                                              a major sports venue(NFL), and great food, we rented a car and headed back West for home. We encountered no inclement weather conditions, but very inviting sun and scenic pleasantries.  I believed this to be a memorable and a once in a lifetime experience. I tell you, there was something magical about this whole affair; So I wrote this poem.                                                                                                                                               

These were memorable moments and treasured conversations as I crossed The Great Divide on Interstate 80 with my friend.  I was able to assist him in accomplishing a milestone in his life. I found pure pleasure and fulfillment as the two of us motored nearly halfway across the country; so I wrote this poem.  I tell you, every ounce of my being wanted to capture and harness a most priceless memory for my friend; and for me, this short narrative that I will treasure for a lifetime. 

100720PSCtest, ....So I Wrote A Poem, John Lawless
Form: Narrative

Saddled With Onus of Penury No More Second Plea

bloated girth deceased,
not surprisingly packed orotund
size appetite conveniently weighted
gravity helped fell
giant gourmand chowhound
demise linkedin automatically tightened
neckerchief doubled as noose clothbound

neck, the luckless bard dead -
poets society he didst cofound
oh captain my captain compound
suffering no more, departure doth not confound
those familiar with ravages of pennilessness
although glum spouse doggone bewailing
analogous to melancholy coonhound

inescapable woebegone travails decompound
constituted complex challenges
doom also depressed petsmart deerhound
four footed friend invisibly yoked, where
writings witnessed scrivener
daily voluntarily deskbound
unsuccessful chicken scratch disbound

dispersed newpages feted
German, Oriental and American cockroaches
courtesy proffered grubhub,
wet precipitation courted mildew,
and mold beheld fancy feast dumbfound
ding maggoty parasites riddled
treasure trove discovered earthbound

corpse hungry flocking carrion
heralded all points of compass - eastbound
most popular, hence route crow did house,
cutthroat beasty boys 
aided, devoured, gorged...,
among which canine corps elkhound
leader of pack tacking course enwound

roundabout path barking commands
ruff lee didst expound
slinked sly as foxes -
shushed kindred brothers 
up ahead wolf gang,
thence took faux minute paws
aware fresh meat fairground

survival of fittest edict woof lee decreed,
when sudden thick terrain fogbound
not impossible mission, though
totally opaque foreground
keen sense of smell and hearing aid found
dead reckoning, i.e. ground zero.

Premium Member My Friend Arthur


We were bused from Sacramento to Reno.
We rode a train from Reno to Salt Lake City.
We then bused from SLC to Kansas City.
Somewhere along the I-80 route,
we crossed the Great Divide.

At the time, the Kansas City Chiefs was not
on my list of favorite things to do or places
to go before my demise, but they soon
became a member of my bucket list.

The memory of the trip itself and
all the joy it brought my friend
and I was not the real treasure.
The real treasure hidden in a field;
the real pearl of great pride was
the six days and six nights spent
with a friend. Sure, we both
greatly enjoyed the entire
theme of 'Football', but the
real deal was the chats and
the conversations of the
heart about life and family;
about childhood and Christ.
It was the brief time spent in
a conversation with two other
guys as we passed through
Winnemucca, Nev. on
the Eastbound train.

We stayed two nights in KC.
In KC we went to a KC Chiefs game.
We also met the KC cheerleaders.

We rented a car and headed
for home on Monday afternoon.
The long drive back from KC to
Sac was great and not a chore.
The KCC has been my friend's
favorite team since childhood,
and I can imagine how it made
him feel to see a live home game.
By the way, the home team lost to
a non-contending team. However,
my friend's team won the Super Bowl
that same year.

092924PS
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Prince's Adoptees

"I have been a stranger in a strange land."  Bible, Exodus 2:22

[X]X[X]  *  X[X]X  *  [X]X[X]  *  X[X]X  *  [X]X[X]

Hungry eyes seek substance, food matters naught--
sees the unpleasantness that drains the eyes.
The sea, Heaven on earth, explicit thought
of days that pleased youth oft courses--denies
to the stare of his feet, wherefore and whys,
slowly his head lifts, upright, turned around,
raises palms to rub eyes, lowers ... astound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Rudders turn stern, sails fixed, helms steer abound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.

[X]X[X]  *  X[X]X  *  [X]X[X]  *  X[X]X  *  [X]X[X]

The Creator last passed, blessed the Isles, ought
for the righteous--who first cheered led to cries--
so say I, the Lord of host ..., naught bethought,
lead to temptations; scripturally wise,
threshold darkness crossed, newcomers, eyed prize,
an ancient people's customs, rites, all-round,
diverse power creates oneness, propound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Afeared spread out and a kingdom compound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.

[X]X[X]  *  X[X]X  *  [X]X[X]  *  X[X]X  *  [X]X[X]

An influx flourish, commitments ill-fraught,
church breeds greed, false prophets, true profits--guise,
knowledge sought by natives plots short-changed taught,
forced natives, dethroned queen, kingdom, likewise,
unlearned natives conquered by day, by lies,
time passed, those with knowledge escapes eastbound,
some accomplished, tiresome measures, homebound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Though zilch, non-native highest seat -- renowned,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.

[X]X[X]  *  X[X]X  *  [X]X[X]  *  X[X]X  *  [X]X[X]

Grant, native Hawaiians were first who found,
last Hawaiian; Isles, their burial mound,
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Moses, Exodus estranged you -- your crowned,
last -- prince by name, adoptee, choose uncrowned.
at last, life found its true purpose; a home.
Form: Ballade

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